


The Exempt of Sovngarde

by Scarfox15



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, F/F, F/M, M/M, Thieves Guild
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 18:04:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19339750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarfox15/pseuds/Scarfox15
Summary: From the waters of Ilinalta, the reformation of the Thieves Guild, the rebirth of the Dark Brotherhood, and the ashes of Helgen, a party of misfits and the lost begin to remember what it was like to be at peace. However in a world where ghosts and the undead are real, these adventurers are only plagued by the ghosts of their past.





	The Exempt of Sovngarde

The waters were clear, allowing a woman to see almost perfectly through as her magically chained body sank to the bottom of Ilinalt along with the rest of her caravan. She didn’t scream, nor thrash, as poison already had been flowing through her veins and kept her calm enough to accept her fate. Her attention was captured though, by a splash near her, closer to the shore. A Dunmer had been thrown into the water, and before he could hit his head she reacted with the last of her consciousness to magically push him out of the water, freeing him. Before her eyes closed, death awaiting her, she saw him look back and she reached for him, only for him to turn his back on her and walk away.

 

* * *

 

 

Retching, coughing, heaving, the woman found herself on her knees, her head shielded in her arm as she struggled to open her eyes. The world was blurry, and she did her best to blink it away as she coughed and tried her best to drag herself over to a nearby rock and get into a position where she could look around.

 

“So,” A voice reached her ears as the sound of restoration magic activated. The woman turned, seeing the comforting golden glow surrounding a gloved hand. “How did a Khajiit get her thieving hands on Nightingale armor?” Her blood froze, and the woman didn’t know how to respond. The truth? A lie? Which is the better answer? As she contemplated this, she looked up at the owner of the voice, only to find the same Dunmer as before, watching her with a blank expression. If he was here, and she was alive, then it was clear that he was the one who rescued her, but why only heal her partially? For information? What could she possibly know that he would need?

 

“Who are you?” She asked, her voice raspy and her throat still sore. He eyed her up and down, seeming to study her as he decided if he wanted to answer her question. He sighed, shifted, dispelled his magic, and leaned forward against his knee to humor her for conversation.

 

“They call me Honrich.” He replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

 

“Odd name for a Dunmer.” The woman pointed out.

 

“Oddly rude for a Khajiit.” Honrich replied. “Now, are you going to tell me or not? I have no problem just tossing you back into the lake and going about my merry way.”

 

“...I don’t see how it’s any of your business.” She narrowed her eyes, her hand clenched into a fist. The wet leather was becoming uncomfortable and she wanted nothing more than to properly bathe herself and change.

Honrich glared at her, then shook his head. “Fine! Fine. Here,” he tossed a healing potion at her, and she hurriedly tried to catch it before the bottle hit the rocks. “A life for a life.” The elf stood, and rested his hand on his hip. He seemed troubled, like he really hoped she would have information for her, but she had none to give.

 

“What now?” She asked, having already downed the potion and sat with her back to the rock now. She was pulling off her gloves, shaking off the water soaked into her fur as she frowned in distaste.

 

“Now, I leave. My debt to you is repaid, and you’re of no use to me.” He shifted, but all she really heard was the jingle of his septims in their purse, and his bow being taken out. Would he really heal her, just to kill her again?

 

“And you’ll leave me here?” She asked, her voice quieter. She wouldn’t beg for her life, but she certainly didn't want to die.

 

“Need I spell it out for you? I saved your life. How bloodthirsty do you think I am, to just kill you with my own hands now?” She could almost hear him roll his eyes. “Come on, if you’re that desperate, I’ll escort you to Falkreath. I have respects to pay on my travels.”

 

She hesitated, but the woman got to her feet. She might have been without a blade, but a bow was practically useless in close proximity anyway so she should be fine. Right?

 

As the two of them turned towards the forest, the woman paused, noticing not far from where they were, four mounds of fresh dirt lined the shore in a neat line. Did he bury her caravan while he waited for her to awaken?

 

“Hurry up, cat! I’d rather not be eaten by wolves in my free time!”

 

Maybe that was a question for another day.


End file.
